Anonymous The Bell Won't Stop Ringing
by GrimAltair24
Summary: I have dedicated my life to the study of the deadly arts. I can blend in with any crowd, strike from any direction, and eliminate anyone with a single thrust of my blade. My name is Altair, and my actions will be remembered for ages to come." Game Intro


**_Anonymous (The Bell Won't Stop Ringing)_**

Based on the videogame _Assassin's Creed_

Dedicated to _Ubisoft_

_Author's Note: Basically this is the game intro in written form with a beginning and ending that I came up with. _

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He moves with caution through the crowd, he who is clothed in white, he who is anonymous. His face is concealed with a hood he wears on his head, its shadow masking the upper half of his face. A few would think he is a suspicious character, but most of them think nothing of it, because his garb is similar to that of an innocent scholar. He wears an under-tunic, its sleeves protruding from the over-tunic's armholes, both garments a bright white. Just below his torso is a large, thick, leather belt, with the hilts of what seemed to look like throwing knives protruding from its top. Strapped to his back is a one-handed crossbow, bobbing up and down with each step he takes. Attached to his belt is, surprisingly, a sheathed long sword. Will you think him a scholar, if he carries such weapons? Of course not, because he is anything but.

The red sash and the flaps of his under-tunic wave slightly in the air as he walks. So he continues his stride, gently pushing aside any citizen that would make abrupt contact. The contact will draw attention, attention will draw guards. If the guards are to approach him, that will make all of his actions for nothing. Nothing, and he will return to his master with the mission a failure. No, he will not accept failure. He must redeem himself of what he has done. He has done what would be the most disgraceful to the brotherhood. Now he must regain his rank and honor. And he thought, that the most important thing he must regain, is his reputation as one of the most skilled of his kind.

The town is a dull gray, no sign of beautiful colors or sunshine. Although, the sun did its best to give the town and its citizens enough light through the gray clouds to presume it was daytime. The clouds fill the sky, and the rays of light are only protruding from small gaps in the thick, gray coverlet. Citizens walk through the streets, going on with their daily routines. Customers are marveling at the products of the market stands, while the merchants fill their heads with words of wonder and encouragement to buy them. The man knew full well that the merchants are performing scams; they are selling products that were not as great as they claim. Guards stand at their stations, their hard gazes scanning the crowds as they walk by them. They are unaware of any danger or outcome, and that is what he needed.

As he goes through the task at hand in his mind, he does not notice the woman walking towards him with a jar gently balanced on her head. The pot is filled with water, many will assume, for the quiet sloshing sounds could be heard if one takes enough time to listen. But the white-clothed man does not do this, and there is a crash. The sound of water is masked by the clattering echo of clay shards as the remains of the jar makes collision with the brick road. His eyes widen as he takes a step back and his shoulders tense; will he be found out? His right hand slightly hovers dangerously above his sword, at the ready if there is to be any fight. The woman's scolds begin to fade from his hearing as he feels his heart beat at a fast tempo. A few beads of sweat slide down his brow and his breathing picks up slightly. He is grateful that the hood's shadows covers his eyes, because no one can see that his eyes are quickly glancing from one side to the next, taking in the crowd's reactions.

The people stop their routine and take a few moments to glance at the man, and he freezes underneath their stares. He lowers his head to conceal his face even more, and walks past the woman. The crowd ignores him, and therefore continue their business. The woman is bewildered that he just left without a word of apology and angrily stomps off to fetch another jar of water. The said man raises his roughly gloved hands to his chest and folds them, successfully assuming the position of a praying scholar. He carefully walks past two guards in this position, and takes note of the fact that the guards had their hands on the hilts of their swords; they are alert.

He inwardly growls at his recklessness and lack of awareness. Being alert and aware are both two of the most crucial traits he needs to complete the deeds he is given. If he and his brothers are alert and aware, they could easily make an escape or avoid the suspicion of guards. These are what they need to get the job done. He had just nearly exposed himself to the guards and the citizens. If he did, he will either have to run and hide for a good amount of time, or kill the guards and then hide. Both, however, will be a waste of time.

He slowly lowers his hands as a large bell tower came into view when he enters the town square. He stops, looks up, and carefully calculates its height and the many possibilities that would be available to him. It is the way of the brotherhood, to examine your surroundings and know when and how to strike. He acknowledges the tower and continues on. Soon he begins to use his long legs as an advantage to weave through the markets and make his stride as smooth as possible. He is once again getting strange looks from the people he walks by, but he keeps his gaze locked on the bell tower just ahead of him.

He notices that there are shouts of orders and encouragement coming from the other side of the tower as he finally approaches the building. Good. He still has enough time before his objective escapes. He nods to himself and with one last glance behind his shoulder, he runs up the wall and grasps onto a ledge with both hands.

Right arm, reach up, grasp, and pull. Left leg, lift up, place, and push. Left arm, reach up, grasp, and pull. Right leg, lift up, place, and push. His climbing continues in this sequence for a large amount of time before he could go no further. He is about halfway to the bell. No one can see him; still anonymous. The people below are walking around without a slight suspicion of a white-clothed man climbing the bell tower. Seeing that he could go no further on this route, he begins to look for another one. Soon, he spots one. To his left, just a bit above his head, is a small ledge. Yet it is big enough for two hands to get a firm grip on. He chooses this route and reaches for the ledge with his left arm.

Once he has a strong grip on the ledge, he releases his right hand from its previous position and has it do the same action as it's opposite. Next, he swings his body so he could align with his arms. Before he can hit the wall, he quickly plants his feet below the ledge, directly parallel with the said wall. He looks up and sees another ledge. He reaches up with one arm and pulls himself up. The ledge extends along the entire wall on this side of the tower, and he spots another route. He shimmies to the left across the ledge and when he reaches its end, he stops. The man inhales and leaps to the left, only to grasp onto another ledge. He exhales and, seeing that there are no more obstacles or dead-ends up ahead, the white-clothed man begins his sequence once more. A blistery gale picks up, and his red sash along with the drapes of his over-tunic begin to flow in rhythm with its currents.

At last, our protagonist reaches the bell house of the tower. Tightening his grip, he catapults himself up over the ledge and lands on the ground in a crouch, no sound is made. He slowly moves his head side to side as he scans the bell house. No guard. Knowing that there is no harm to be expected, he stands and creeps around the bell to the opposite side, the side where all the shouts are coming from. He pushes his back against the wall and looks around the corner of the bell house, carefully watching the scene before him.

In the courtyard, is an execution stand. Three prisoners stand on their stools, ropes wrapped tightly around their necks. Clothes tattered and ruined, they sob and beg for mercy. But they are unheard, as their voices are drown out by the shouts of the crowd that stands before the stand. Three guards are positioned on the stand, but one of them stands out among them all. The white-garbed man narrows his eyes and keeps them fixed on that one guard. The executioner is present, his objective. He flicks his gaze toward the other two guards that stand close to the executioner, and notices that they are scanning the crowd for enemies. The executioner shouts once more and makes a slashing arm movement to his men. The two guards nod and one pulls a nearby lever. The creaking of wood and three sickening snaps are heard throughout the courtyard, and the crowd's shouts turn into an uproar of approval.

After it is done, the executioner begins his speech to the crowd, declaring that this is done to those who are infidels, to those who don't believe in God's word. Taking this as an opportunity, the man in white steps onto a short, thick, wooden plank that overlooks the courtyard. He keeps his eyes on the execution stand; that is where he has to go to complete his task. The cry of an eagle that is perched on the pole of the execution stand is heard, but it is only heard by him. The eagle takes flight, and flies toward the bell tower, passing the anonymous in a swift ascent. He becomes aware of the bell behind him, and knows that it is going to be rung. If the people below are to look at the bell tower, he will be spotted. He hears the tug of a rope and the slow movement of the bell, then it tolls loudly, passing him as it swings left, blocking him off from our view. The noise of the bell scares the perched birds and causes them to fly away. When the bell swings back to the right, the anonymous is gone.

He stands there in the shouting crowd, facing the stand, still watching the executioner. After a few seconds, he takes a step forward. _The bell tolls once more._ He moves without hesitation, gently pushing a few people out of his way. There will not be any more obstacles between him and his objective. _Another toll from the bell is heard. _He breaks into a slight run, gentle pushes turning into rough ones. The executioner sees the white flash in the crowds, along with its actions. It dawns on the killer, and fear strikes his heart. He calls to his guards and they get ready to advance. _The bell tolls again._ He is now in a sprint, still pushing people out of his path. As he approaches the steps to the execution stand, he uses his right hand to pull out a one-handed crossbow that was stowed on his back. He shoots the guard on the executioner's right and jumps up a few steps. _The bell will not stop ringing._ The guard on the executioner's left advances on him, taking a full swing with his sword, but the anonymous counters. He leans back and dodges the attack, causing the guard to fully spin around because of the force of his swing, leaving his back facing the anonymous. The white-clothed man takes the curved end of his crossbow and hooks it on the guard's belt, successfully pulling him to the ground at the top of the steps.

Our protagonist steps onto the back of the defeated guard and launches himself forward, flying toward the executioner. Now is the time for his task to be completed. He pulls back his left arm, fingers spreading. A two-inch long, hidden blade shoots out from underneath his gauntlet, making a satisfying sound of ringing steel. Its blade shines white in the light of the sun's rays as he flies. The executioner steps back, and he is about to pull out his sword. The left arm lunges forward as he inches closer to the executioner's body. His hidden blade disappears into a throat with the sound of stabbing flesh. _Everything is silent except for one toll from the bell, its deep, resonating, sound echoing throughout the courtyard_. The executioner's eyes widen, and he slowly falls back onto the ground, the anonymous going with him. A thud is heard and the long sword is dropped.

_It was murder._ The white-garbed man slowly pulls out the blade from the executioner's throat. T_he murder of a man who killed infidels._ He finally speaks,

"You are safe. Share your last words with me." The executioner coughs and blood pours from a corner of his mouth. His gray eyes look into those of brown, brown draped with the shadow of a hood.

"I have nothing to tell, but there is something I wish to know." The anonymous waits in silence. "Who are you?" Another silence follows his question. Again, he speaks,

"I am an assassin. You know of us as the Hashashin." He realizes that the executioner is fading, and, with his right hand hovering over the executioner's face, he closes his eyes. "Be at peace." After that is said, the assassin pulls out an eagle's feather from his belt, and slides it over the executioner's throat, successfully dying the feather with a red substance. Then, he stows it away back in his belt.

_He is an assassin. A master of stealth and the killing arts. But what be his name? The bell tolls loudly._ The assassin turns his head to look over his shoulder. More guards are approaching, and he breaks into a sprint. The pursuit of the assassin is on. He runs under an overhang bridge, avoiding another jar carrying woman. She gasps as he ran past her and then she is pushed down by a guard as he and his allies chase after the assassin. He is running down an alleyway, and he turns around a corner, avoiding collision with a woman. She quickly sidesteps out of his way and yelps in surprise.

The assassin comes to a small staircase and quickly he leaps onto one of the railing's posts, then onto another. A guard swings his sword at him, but the assassin leaps to the building wall that is next to the staircase and grabs hold. From there, he begins to climb upwards with amazing speed. He reaches the rooftop, takes a deep breath, and continues his escape.

The white assassin leaps onto another rooftop and is ready to run again, until a red helmet and a white cross catches his eye. A Templar, just below in the alleyway. The Templar looks up and catches sight of the assassin running along the rooftops, and follows him on ground. The assassin picks up more speed as he nears the corner of the rooftop, then jumps. The Templar is waiting for him in the streets below, and as he looks up, the hidden blade has already sunk into his throat. They fall to the ground, and the assassin lands on his feet, hovering above the dead Templar. Another enemy of the brotherhood has been destroyed.

The assassin withdraws the blade into his gauntlet and runs a few steps forward, dodging a man in the process, then slows down as he approaches the doors of a cathedral. He stops and after a few seconds, he slowly turns to face the approaching guards, their swords drawn. _The bell won't stop ringing… _The doors behind him slowly opens, men that bore white cloaks with hoods and red crests slowly pour out of the cathedral. _The scholars have approached…_One of them walks past the assassin, making him invisible for just a second, and when the scholar takes another step, the assassin is nowhere to be seen. _…and he is gone._ The guards look around in confusion and begin searching through the scholar, but they can not find their enemy. And they do not notice the scholar with a sword strapped to his belt, the one who has walked around them and into the crowd.

_The assassin is anonymous once more…_

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_Epilogue_

Our assassin is now leaping across the rooftops in the dead silence of night, the moon brightly lighting his way. The capes of his over-tunic are flapping behind him as he runs, dancing wildly and imitating the wings of a flying eagle. Guards are on their night patrol, and he doubts that they had forgotten his face, not after what he had done earlier that day. So he keeps a lookout for guards as he goes, not wanting to raise another alarm. The cold wind bats at his face, threateningly tugging at his hood, but still he keeps going. Before he can return to his master, he has to receive consent of his achievement.

He stops on a rooftop with an A-shaped like emblem embedded on the ground. _He needs consent to return to his master and consent of his achievement._ The roof has a square gap, surrounded with dark green vines. A faint orange light glows from deep within the gap, and the assassin leaps down into its dark abyss.

He lands softly on the ground in a crouch, then stands up. It is a comfortable room with pillows, carpet mats, and a fountain that also bears the emblem from the rooftop. The assassin takes in a deep breath of content. He would rest, but he must return to the master for the next task. Catching sight of the source of the orange glow, the assassin slowly walks toward an entryway in the corner and takes a step through.

It is another room, but this one looks more dull and historic. There are dust-covered books sitting upon a bookshelf and old, used candles are sitting on a counter that is located in the corner. The counter stretches out horizontally to about half the length of the room. Behind the counter is an old man with a gray beard, leaning against the counter reading an old book. The man wears a black cloak that draped over a white tunic, and a hood is worn on his head similar to our assassin's, only his does not conceal his eyes.

The man looks up at the assassin and gives a little smile.

"Ah, Altair. Good to see you." Altair nods and raises his left hand to his chest, to reveal that there is no ring finger on that hand.

"The same to you, Rafik…" The Rafik closes his book and reaches down behind the counter for another one.

"So, how did it go?" Altair pulls out the red-stained feather from his belt and holds it out in front of him.

"The deed is done." The Rafik nods and places another book on the counter in front of him.

"Well done, Altair. Now you may return to Masyaf and speak with Al Mualim. I am sure he would want to hear the news." The Rafik grabs a feather pen, opens the book, and begins to write of Altair's achievement. Altair stows the stained feather back into his belt and gives a slight nod. After that, he takes a step back, turns, and leaves the study.

_…The Bell Has Stopped…_

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